


"Trick/Treat"

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where John Watson and lots of Londoners love to celebrate Hallowe'en, it just isn't particularly exciting this year. But that's until John comes back to a darkened, quiet flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Trick/Treat"

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Шалость и Угощение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032668) by [Sevima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevima/pseuds/Sevima)



Hallowe’en just wasn’t that exciting, anymore.

Not much could compete with the life of danger and mystery that John had found with Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Detective.

It didn’t particularly bother John that he wasn’t celebrating tonight.

Or, perhaps it did bother him, just a little. But he knew there was no club or party that could give him the kind of thrill he’d begun to need.

When he opened the door to the flat, he felt mildly disappointed to find it so dark and so quiet.

“Sherlock?”

John stepped cautiously forward, looking over his shoulder.

“You all right?”

Sherlock had sent a typically cryptic message asking John to come home at once. Any other day, John would have rolled his eyes and texted back something snarky about pub night with Mike taking precedence over Sherlock’s sock index. Tonight, though, he felt like getting back early, away from the group of giggling, drunken office girls sporting the latest in sexy Halloween costumes. Not that he didn’t appreciate the view, but, really, it was a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. John “Three Continents” Watson preferred his conquests to have a sporting chance (and the ability to give full, unhindered consent).

Something small and hard bounced against a glass beaker in the kitchen, and John turned quickly in that direction. He had just enough time to register the sting of a needle at the back of his neck before he blacked out.

**_Trick_ **

When John awoke, he was sitting on a hard chair, and his hands were bound behind him. Some kind of soft cloth was tied around his eyes. It was so tight, he couldn’t see anything at the edges, not even the difference between light or dark.

He could hear very well, however. And what he heard was the sound of a switchblade, followed by the rough scrape of a knife being stropped against someone’s skin.

Whose skin?

“Sherlock?” he asked again.

No response.

“Please,” he asked his unknown captor, “Just let me know if he’s all right.”

Again nothing.

Only the sound of breathing, growing louder, closer.

Breathing that was soon warm against his neck.

He felt the knife point touch the hollow at the base of his throat.

Slowly, the blade traveled down his torso, barely pressing, only making contact, until it stopped above the zip of his jeans.

John held perfectly still as the blade slid under the button at his waist.

Click! The button fell to the floor.

A hand palmed his crotch, undid his zip, and then two hands pushed his thighs apart.

“Listen,” John rasped, trying to remain as calm as he could, “I don’t know what you want, but -“

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I want, John,” came the deep, rumbling, baritone reply.

**_Treat_ **

Long, talented fingers worked their way along the shaft of John’s hardening cock.

“Fuck, Sherlock!” John shouted angrily.

“I do hope so,” Sherlock answered.

John wanted to move, to try to get free, to knock Sherlock Holmes across the room for this.

John’s body, though, had no problem with staying just as it was.

And who could blame it, when Sherlock’s gorgeous, full lips were kissing up John’s inner thighs, trailing along his shaft, taking in just the tip, then the full length, sucking, pulling, letting go, and sucking hard again.

“Jesus!!”

John bucked his hips and thrust into that amazing, impossible mouth. He was close, and he couldn’t - he actually, physically couldn’t - hold back.

He felt himself virtually explode inside Sherlock’s mouth.

“Oh,God… Fucking hell….,” he swore between long, ragged breaths. “You’re…. completely…. insane…. you bastard…”

The hands that had been pulling at his hips slid around behind John’s back and untied the ropes around John’s wrists.

Immediately, John pulled off the blindfold - one of his own ties - and blinked into the near-darkness.

There was Sherlock Holmes, kneeling in front of him, resting one perfectly-chiseled cheekbone against John’s thigh.

“Happy Hallowe’en to you as well, John.”


End file.
